June’s electric weekend

I tried to stay close to home this weekend. These at-home jokes never get old.

For some reason, work kicked my arse to Topeka and back last week, which isn’t good because I’m supposed to shelter in—what the heck does “shelter in place” mean, anyway? It makes me think of freeze tag, which by the way was always a stupid game.

Anyway.

Work kicked my arse, and I worked a little late Friday, or as I like to call it, Friyay. That too never gets old. “I’m shutting down my computer and not THINKING about work till Monday,” I said to Edsel, who was not only looking forward to Friyay but also Caturday.

The moment I closed my laptop I got a headache.

This is a common migraine-y thing, that the pain comes AFTER the stress. I don’t know why. I also don’t know why there’s no sun up in the sky. Stormy weather. Since that migraine and I got together.

So my head summed up both Friyay and Caturday.

My faithful companions joined me on the bed, and it was totally 100% for sure because they cared and not at all because I was a large warm area on the bed. But at one point in my agony I looked over and saw Lily shooting me daggers.

That was comforting.

Then on Sunday—or Sunday Funday, there’s nothing I like better than when people write that. On Sunday Funday I got up all my courage and drove down to the post office to mail my StitchFix bag.

When you subscribe to StitchFix, they send you a box of clothes, and a bag to mail them back in if you don’t keep them all. I have never kept them all, I don’t think. And now, in the time of our plague, I had to mail the bag back. I in fact kept ZERO clothes this time, as none of them wowed me enough. Let’s say “Wow factor” since we’re saying all the words I love today.

Anyway, I drove to the post office with my bag and my baggage; I had my mask and my gloves and my hazmat suit and my immune system all ready to get the nerve to touch the handle on the mailbox there at the post office, and when I got there?

Slots. Teensy slots. There was no way to mail my bag without GOING INTO THE LOBBY.

Oh my god.

I’ve literally been nowhere since this whole business started. Nowhere. And now I had to go into the post office lobby, where germ people probably lick all surfaces just to vex me.

I suited up in my hazmat men-from-E.T. outfit and got to the door. Inside was an old man. There’s an old man standing next to me, making love to his tonic and germ.

I didn’t go in, as the lobby isn’t what you’d call roomy in the hips, Clarice, so I stood outside in my jaunty mask.

You’ve never seen an old man take his sweet time longer than this motherfuckin’ heifer. Jesus Katie Christ. I don’t even know what he was DOING in there after he stopped making love to his tonic and germ. I kept peering in there and he was OBLIVIOUS. Was he drawing stamps?

Finally, after six hours and 49 types of virus floated at me in the air, he walked out, and when he saw me he LEAPED back like I had the red prongs of corona sticking directly out of me. Oh, NOW he’s got the fire down below. Sure.

As I mailed the damn bag, it occurred to me that last month all I did was stick the bag in my door, at home, where my mail slot is, and Bernie my mailman took it.

Ding-dang it.

So now I await all the symptoms, because I ventured out, and I will alert you forthwith via my dry cough.

Also, last night, on Sunnight Funnight, I opened my fridge door for a change, and?

No light.

Hunh, I thought, opening the freezer.

No light.

Goddammit.

I checked my extremely modern fuse box, and even replaced the fuses with each other, but ’twasn’t the fuse. After much hemming and hawing, I plugged a lamp into the outlet where the fridge is plugged in?

And?

Outlet isn’t working.

Did I mention this is an extremely new and cutting-edge house?

So I spent my Funnight in the shed, where I’m certain eleventy snakes riddled with coronavirus don’t reside or anything, digging through my Christmas boxes till I found an extension cord. And?

Current situation. Look, at least my refrigerator’s running, so you can go ahead and prank call me now.

I really don’t want anyone IN here fixing anything, but I did text my ridiculous handyman, Alf, who as you may recall sends me the world’s most annoying texts back, where I swear he TRIES to make it impossible to discern his meaning.

Oh my god. What.

So that about sums me up, and tells you all about Friyay through Funday, and I personally hate everything and all germs and also electricity. The whole kit and kaboodle pisses me off. I miss normal life. I miss my electric youth.

In a Whirlpool of emotions,
June

33 Comments

  1. Great Speckled Bird, I posted twice as Anonymous yesterday. Scowling pink square indeed.

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  2. This whole thing (minus the headache–although the Lily caption should be included) was hilarious!

    Lovely post, lovely June!

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  3. Tell Alf that was more of a phone call vs a text. Right? I am just glad you got your fridge plugged in for the moment. Sorry about your headache. I have a headache too. Figuratively speaking. He’s almost 22. The other 5 contribute, but not in the same ‘gonna-make-you-head-explode’ kinda way.

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  4. I think I speak Alf. Women living alone have enough to think about. Just come look at it Alf.

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  5. I understood Alf’s text! I’d be surprised if a mortgage company would even let you buy a house these days with those old timey, fire hazard fuses.
    In graduate school I lived in a verrrry old, charming apartment building with those fuses. In the summer I could either run my dinky window a/c OR run any other single item requiring electricity, but not both. NOT charming. Whoever invented a modern breaker box gets a kiss from me.
    Sorry about your hurty head.

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  6. OMG I laughed out loud so hard – I hope the neighbors didn’t hear me as they know I am here alone with the animal kids. Then though – oh what the hell.
    It is somewhat common for a headache like that to come on once the stress is relieved… at least in my world of Psychotherapy. I am sorry that happened to you though. Hope you are feeling better!

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  7. I wonder if Alf has an older flip phone as opposed to a smart phone. Reading his text, I guessed he was taking shortcuts while entering it. That way he doesn’t have to tap three or four times to get the letter he wants. I remember those days and the cursing under my breath when I messed up and had to start over. Hope you don’t have any more migraines for a long time.

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  8. Hilarious post, except the headache. I did understand the entire text from Alf, which is sad or impressive. A refrigerator or freezer should not be on a GFCI plug. Robert might want to check that. By the time I got to the old man in the post office I was ROFL (can I say that here?), but I understand completely.
    Tee

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  9. As the opposite of capable Audra, I am impressed that you knew about outlet buttons, hacked your way through the undergrowth to your fuse box, and knew where to find your extension cord(s).

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  10. Snakes with coronavirus.
    The newspaper (probably written these days by three guys waiting for the AP teletype while throwing pencils up to stick in the acoustic tile ceiling) had a short piece about a dog testing positive for the virus. (DON’T WORRY Edsel has not been out enough to catch it.) So the three people in the family turned out to be positive too. The piece concluded, “A lizard was not tested.”

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  11. There are elements to the blouse you modeled that are great – the print and the sleeves. It was ruined by the tie-thingy at the waist.

    Is everything more aggravating in a pandemic? My answer is yes. Good luck with the box and the bush and all.

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  12. “There’s an old man standing next to me, making love to his tonic and germ.” You just made my day with that line! Also, that text is ridiculous.

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  13. I am making my husband do home repairs, which somehow meant essential fan replacement (shipped from Lowe’s, left in garage for a week to kill all germs). Anyway. I made him promise not to eff with electricity unless I was standing nearby with sneakers on and my phone in my hand to call 911, in case he electrocutes himself. #trustingwife

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    1. My husband is very careful with electric projects, but he’s also had me stand by with something non-conductive to break the connection with whatever is electrocuting him, in case it for some reason still has a charge and happens. It’s not stressful at all…

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  14. Oh my dear lord no to the Alf speak. With autofill, why would you persist with U and the rest of that gibberish?. Also, mite!?!? Aaaaaaaaa

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  15. Weirdly enough, I mostly understand what Alf’s talking about. Easiest thing to translate (and fix): check the little buttons on your kitchen outlets and see if any of them are popped out. Also, please tell me his name is Robert and he just referred to himself in the third person!

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    1. The outlet that isn’t working doesn’t have those buttons. However, I clicked every outlet that HAS a button in the whole kitchen.

      Robert is an electrician.

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      1. Darn, too bad. I’ve been tricked by those before because an outlet without a button wasn’t working and after stressing about it I finally happened to notice another outlet was popped (and apparently controlled all the outlets in that corner). Hope it ends up being something easy for him to fix, or your neighbor spots a fuse issue!

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        1. Yes, I remember having that too…in the addition that was finished early last year. The outlet that wasn’t working was downstream from a GFI outlet that was tripped.

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  16. You do have that updated fuse box he makes mention of. Let me know if you’d like me to skip over and check the box. It should be outside. And I’m referring to the fuse box.

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    1. I did check the box, as it were, and nothing looked askew. The only thing I noted was my bush is getting in the way of my box and why am I always in 7th grade? But really, I need to trim that bush.

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      1. I’d love to social distance in the yard!! I’m taking project time off until Thursday. Let’s make this happen sometime before then. I’ll even bring my own mask and gloves and a bottle of something!!

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